Black Silk
by FlyFly
Summary: A murder at an all girls college sends an unexpected surprise Sherlock's way. Perhaps cases such as these take not only one brilliant mind, but two? Please Read and Review. Rated T for murder.
1. She

This is my first Sherlock fanfic. (This first A/N is also an update).

**Before you start reading this, I have to make it clear that I am aware that a character in this story is something very close to a Mary-Sue. Also that I am not 'self projecting', merely cloning an already existing canon character, which is completely different.  
Some 'Anonymous' reviewers have said otherwise, and obviously haven't gone on to read the rest of the story, nor the A/Ns in other chapters.**

Disclaimer: I do not own _Sherlock._

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There was a screech of tires as the taxi pulled up in front of Scotland Yard, a pause, and then two men emerged from the back of the car. One, a respectable looking man with short light brown hair and a slight limp, known as John Watson and the other a notably taller man with a mess of black hair wearing a long blue trench coat, Sherlock Holmes. The latter led the way up the stone steps into the building while his colleague followed.

Inside the building it was relatively cool. A sour looking lady sat at a brown wood desk behind some glass in the foyer, and did not smile when the two of them approached her.

"Can I help you?" she asked, though by her expression, she knew exactly who they were, and exactly why they were there.

"Please do." The taller man muttered under his breath, sarcastic as ever. His companion gave him a side-long glance, exchanged a few words with the woman, and was given directions.

"Thank you." He turned away, and set the pace along the corridor to their right.

"I do not understand why you bother with such formality. We know where to go." The black haired man said, "Though she was new... perhaps I understand your reasoning."

"Don't want to scare them away, though they've probably already heard rumours."

"Gossiping is the _only_ thing desk ladies are good at."

The pair of them continued along the corridor, to the elevator, where they paused before the doors slid open. Neither of them said a word to each other as they rode up to the third floor. There was a 'ping' and they were let off, continuing down another hallway to a door. The man with the trench coat pushed it open, not bothering to knock.

"So what is the great emergency?" he asked, stepping inside.

A greying man sat behind a desk, though he stood immediately when the two entered. In front of him was another seat, occupied. From where the pair stood, they could see a sheen of straight black hair and two pale hands resting on dark blue jeans.

"Sherlock! John!" the man exclaimed. Doctor John Watson waited patiently for his companion to make a comment, but upon further inspection found that the man wore a look of bitterness.

"_What's she doing here_?" his tone icy.

The girl in question turned her head ever so slightly to look at him. Her face was as pale as her hands, though her black turtleneck jumper did not help her complexion. She was absolutely stunning, at least, judging from her profile she was, a set of small perfect pink lips, ears that held back her long hair nicely, and a pair of bright blue eyes that stared at the man who had spoken of her.

"I thought you would have been pleased to see me." She said, her voice ringing out like a bell.

"She's supposed to be at boarding school." hissed Sherlock.

Then it became apparent to John Watson, that the girl sitting there could only be sixteen, perhaps seventeen.

"I got bored." she replied, turning back to the desk.

"So... uh..." John looked from his companion to the girl and then the grey haired man.

"Your new _friend_ seems nice though." said the girl.

"What's she doing here?" Sherlock repeated, looking to the man.

"There's been a murder. At Saint Mary's College, all the other students were sent home to their families, but the school didn't know where to send _her_."

"I'm sitting right here, you know."

"Why did she come _here?_"

"She asked to come here. _Take her back_?" DI Lestrade seemed a little more than stressed, and the plea was a whisper.

There was silence.

Sherlock approached the girl.

"Madeleine."

"Daddy."

More silence.

"What are you doing here?"

"The nice man just told you. A girl was murdered at my school. They had to evacuate us, and I don't know where you live anymore because you keep moving."

"I do not." Sherlock retorted petulantly. The girl – Madeleine – turned her head up to look up him.

She said nothing.

But it appeared that that was enough, for Sherlock rounded back on the two silent men, staring at him. He looked between them for a moment before striding back out the door.

Madeleine got up from her seat, smiled and thanked Lestrade before following her _father_ out the door. John could only follow, closing the door behind him.

xsherlockx

The three clambered into another taxi. John gave the driver directions, and they pulled onto the wet road, speeding through the streets of London.

Madeleine sat between the two men, her fingers folded neatly together in her lap. She stared out between the front seats through the windscreen. John turned his head to look at the two sitting next to him.

There was no denying that they looked similar. Both were quite pale, with the same black hair, though Madeleine's was long and dead straight whereas Sherlock's was curly. There was a difference in the way they sat, Sherlock hunched over his phone – texting probably – while Madeleine sat straight, staring out the window. Both however, had the same intense blue eyes that burned into either a phone screen, or a wind screen.

Madeleine's flickered to Sherlock's phone.

"Uncle knows I am here." she said. The man sitting next to her straightened up over his phone and tilted his head in her general direction.

"Why can't he take you then?"

"You know he's busy Daddy." Her eyes returned to the wind screen. John flinched; he couldn't come to terms with the fact that Sherlock Holmes was a _father_.

The girl sitting next to him must have noticed, for she turned her head toward him. A fake smile appeared on her face, the same one Sherlock used when manipulating Molly.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Madeleine Holmes, a pleasure to meet you." She unclasped her hands and shifted herself around to hold one in front of him. John took it, shaking it slightly, it was very cold.

"John Watson."

After a beat, she let go, and resumed her staring practice.

xsherlockx

The three entered the flat silently, Sherlock hanging his coat and scarf on a hook behind the door, before crossing the room and setting his phone down on the desk next to his laptop.

Madeleine waited patiently in the middle of the room, while John stood awkwardly behind her.

"You can sleep there." Sherlock pointed aimlessly to the couch, before returning to his laptop. The small black suitcase Madeleine had brought with her was set on the leather.

"You've stopped smoking." She observed.

"Yes." Sherlock replied, before beginning to type. John had the feeling that Madeleine wasn't asking a question, but also that Sherlock wasn't confirming anything.

"Shall I leave you both to it then? I'm going out with Sarah anyway, so I won't be in your way for a while."

A sharp pair of eyes turned toward him, and for a moment he was stunned by the long black hair falling around Sherlock's features. It took him a second to realise that the figure was more feminine and the long hair belonged to Sherlock's daughter.

"Madeleine." Sherlock warned from his table.

"Have a nice night." The girl's face lit up like a candle, her voice as light as a feather. The man backed out of the flat quickly, and disappeared down the stairs, only to be replaced by a kindly old woman.

"Oh dear, who's this then?" Mrs. Hudson asked from the door, looking the young girl up and down.

Neither occupant of the room made to reply.

"I'm Mrs. Hudson dear, the landlady." the woman said, "Are you staying here? I can always get out the spare mattress if you don't want to sleep on the couch..."

"That won't be necessary Mrs. Hudson, she won't be staying here long." Sherlock looked up from his laptop simply to grab his phone.

"Oh? Oh." She nodded before leaving the room.

"I won't be staying here long?" Madeleine stalked over to Sherlock, folding her arms across her chest.

"No you won't. Once this murder case has been solved you can go back to your boarding school." He stood up, towering over her.

"They won't just reopen the school after someone has been murdered." she rolled her eyes. He watched her for a moment before flashing his award-winning smile and placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Your education means a lot to me, I don't want to see you disadvantaged because someone got killed."

Madeleine shrugged him off.

"Please, you really couldn't care two pounds for me."

* * *

Hmm...

Anyway, tell me what you think.

I only recently watched the three episodes, and I don't remember much of them, but still.

Review.


	2. Lucy Brookes

The flat was silent, save for the soft clinking of metal against ceramic plate. After his 'date' with Sarah, John returned to find Sherlock still sitting at his laptop, and Madeleine asleep on the couch. The shorter man proceeded to reheat a plate of chicken and vegetables left on the kitchen bench, probably by Mrs. Hudson, and set it beside Sherlock.

The nicotine-addict looked at it briefly before standing up, picking a photo off the table and going to stick it to the mirror above the fireplace. John was left to eat the chicken.

"Who's that?" he asked after a minute, forking a piece of the meat into his mouth.

"Lucy Brookes, form four at Saint Mary's Girls College for _intelligent young ladies._" The last half was said with a sarcastic tone and a momentary glance at the girl on the couch.

"Is she the one that was murdered?"

"Yes. Strangled and left by a lake without any clothes."

"She was left _naked?_" John seemed a little sickened. This young girl was strangled and left to die. He'd seen many things in the army, but the things he saw back in London with Sherlock were usually worse. On top of all that the detective did not even seem bothered that the girl _went to the same school as his daughter, and was probably the same age._

"I wouldn't be surprised if it had been planned for months in advance."

"How can you know that? Seems like a blind rape to me."

Sherlock's hand outstretched to another picture John had not noticed. The girl's body. He tapped it twice with his index finger before folding his arms back across his chest. It did not explain anything, but the blond man kept quiet.

"Is she the same age as Maddy?"

"Madeleine." corrected Sherlock. He turned to face John, eyeing him.

"Sorry, how old is Madeleine?"

"She's seventeen on September the twenty eighth. Born Madeleine Aurelia Holmes at the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital in 1994. Do you perhaps want her birth records as well?"

"Oh. I thought she might have been born in a great big mansion in the countryside. Whose decision was it to have her in a hospital, her mother's?"

Sherlock did not reply, merely spinning around to face the mirror again.

"What if Madeleine knew this Lucy Brookes? Couldn't you ask her about it?"

"I don't have friends, what makes you think _she_ does?"

"Well she seems a little less cold, that's all." John muttered, shrugging and picking up the plate. He wandered over to stand beside Sherlock, looking at the mirror.

"Found anything?"

"I want to look at her body," was all John got as a reply.

"Right now?"

"Yes! Right now!" Sherlock strode over the door and pulled his coat from the hook, shrugging it on and tying his scarf around his neck.

"But I haven't finished the chicken!" John protested, setting the plate down anyway and picking his jacket off the back of a chair. The taller man was halfway out the door when a voice stopped him.

"May I come?" Madeleine asked. Sherlock spun around in his heel in one fluid motion, nodded, and then averted his attention back to the stairs. John smiled apologetically at the girl – though she did not appear to see it – before heading out the door himself, Madeleine following.

xsherlockx

St. Bart's was relatively quiet at night, at least, as quiet as a hospital could be at least.

Molly Hooper had almost finished her shift, but upon receiving a text saying;

'_Need St Mary's girl. Surprise for you. SH.'_

She forgot about the leftovers waiting for her in her fridge at home and set about retrieving the 'St Mary's girl' from the morgue. The body was zipped up nicely in a black bag and was all ready waiting for Sherlock and John on the table. A minute after she'd rolled the table in, the two men made their appearance.

The look of definite shock on her face was priceless to Sherlock, and he smiled briefly to himself before pushing Madeleine forward toward the young woman.

"This is Madeleine. Keep her occupied, _please_." he smiled with an insincere look of hopelessness, and then moved toward the table occupied by the body. Molly was left to stare at the female form of the man she was half in love with.

"Niece?" she asked bravely. Madeleine turned her head from Sherlock to look at her.

"Daughter." she informed Molly. The brunette spun around to stare at the big blue toe of a dead man, while her world came crashing down around her.

"So this is Lucy Brookes?" John asked, unzipping the top end of the bag. Molly went to the desk to fetch papers, still in a mild state of shock.

"Keep the zip at her neck, there are children about." Sherlock said loudly, snapping on some rubber gloves he had found. Madeleine rolled her eyes, but kept silent and stayed where she was, next to the _stark naked_ man with the blue toes.

"Um, Sherlock? Her file says her name is Rebecca Thompson." Molly spoke up. The consulting detective frowned and went around to take the papers from Molly for himself. He flicked through the file and handed them back to Molly without a word.

"Rebecca Thompson, form four at St Mary's College. She was missing for a week before they found her." John read out from the file over Molly's shoulder.

"Where is Lucy Brookes?" Sherlock asked, beating his palms against the metal table.

"She's the only girl from St Mary's that I have here." Molly bit down on her lip. John looked up from the papers, to see Sherlock fully unzipping the body from its bag.

_Acne scars._

_Dandruff._

_Dried mud under nails._

_Mascara._

_Bruising around the neck._

_Scratches – shins and forearms._

"She's not very pretty." Sherlock observed, wrinkling his nose a little and stepping back.

"I don't think she cares." John replied even though Sherlock did not require one.

"The scratches were made when she was clothed, they're around the feet, lower shin and the forearms. Dried mud indicates that wherever she was, was dirty and _wet_ –"

"-Where isn't anything wet in England?-"

"The bruising around the neck shows finger marks," the man had started walking around the room now, passing John and Molly and moving around the tables, "though the bruising doesn't reach around the back of the neck. So either the murderer had very small hands or it was _self inflicted_."

"-Daddy-"

"So this may not have been a murder at all. Perhaps she was _forced_ into killing-"

"-Daddy!-"

"-herself. But then where is Lucy Brookes? We were sent Rebecca Thompson's photo with Lucy Brookes' name attached to it but _why?_"

"_Daddy_!"

"What?" Sherlock wheeled around to glare at Madeleine, who was standing next to Rebecca's body.

"You missed something." She lifted one of her long fingers and pointed to the girl's right arm. The man stalked over to the body and peeled back the upper arm from the upper side of the ribs.

A pentagram was cut into the flesh on the side of the body, well hidden by the arm. The wound appeared to still be bleeding, and had stained the limb red.

"Heparin would stop clotting and keep the cuts open." Madeleine said as though reading out of a book, she clasped her hands behind her back and looked lazily at her father.

"It doesn't explain why this is Rebecca Thompson and _not Lucy Brookes_." Sherlock dropped the arm, ripped off his gloves and folded his arms.

"They're best friends, attached at the hip. I wouldn't be surprised if somebody mixed them up." Madeleine said, staring down at Rebecca.

"_But where is Lucy?_" Sherlock was agitated, annoyed, about to hit something with his whip most probably.

"At school, silly." replied his daughter, sticking her tongue between her teeth as she smiled.

"What?" John piped up.

* * *

Hope you liked the second chapter.

I have got myself a beta-reader, so I am putting chapters through her before I upload them. SHE IS AWESOME! And I love her.

The first chapter was re-edited and posted back up by the way, so there may be some slight adjustments you may want to readover.

**Please Review, because I would like to know what you think.**


	3. Saint Mary's College

Madeleine flew out the black door of 221b Baker Street, narrowly missing a passer-by as she ducked into the waiting taxi. A grin spread wide on her pale face as she sat down opposite her father.

"What's that?" Sherlock asked, his tone low.

"My coat." She replied, pulling the offensive item of clothing around her.

"It's blue."

"Yes."

"It's _exactly like mine_."

"Saint Mary's College, please." Madeleine evaded his eyes, looking over her shoulder to the cabbie. Her father huffed and looked out the window as the car turned into the street.

A small smile played upon Madeleine's lips as she twisted back around. Her gaze shifted to John, who was sitting awkwardly in the silence.

"What is your theory, Doctor John?" the girl spoke up. The older man ceased to watch the cars speed past and looked over at her.

"About Rebecca Thompson?"

Madeleine nodded.

"Well, I thought she was raped, but apparently that's not the situation. Sherlock said something about 'self-inflicted' bruising? So maybe she killed herself, but then that wouldn't really explain the pentagram on her side with the Heparin."

"So you think it may have been a set up?"

"Well, yeah."

"A little like that case you did when Sir Harry Downing was murdered, Daddy," Madeleine smiled when Sherlock's gaze fixed her.

"You read his website?" John asked.

"Of course I do. Daddy's adventures are always so intriguing. The homework from school is quite mundane, but at least the 'hidden messages' on Daddy's website give me something to do," she shrugged.

There was a brief pause, as John raised an eyebrow and Sherlock debated whether to return the compliment or not.

"Which reminds me, I saw your report card, Madeleine," the detective started.

"Was it all right?"

"Straight As. However, the grades hardly cover the expense of rebuilding the science lab you destroyed, plus the 52 pounds owing to the library for overdue books," Sherlock replied, feigning a sneer, but John could see a glimmer of pride in his eyes, and it wasn't just the reflections of the lights from cars. The smile on Madeleine's face widened, and it was quite clear that she could see the glimmer too.

xsherlockx

The taxi pulled up outside a large Victorian-style house. It looked gloomy, the lights from the police cars, vans and floodlights doing little to penetrate the darkness.

"Oh, _good_, sniffer dogs." Sherlock clapped his hands in false delight as he stepped out of the taxi after John. The trio made their way to a small pavilion set up on the gravel.

"Sherlock, finally!" DI Lestrade detached himself from a group of younger officers and came to greet them.

"I hope your elephants haven't trampled all over the evidence," Sherlock spoke loudly enough for the rest of the people in the tent to hear. Several pairs of eyes turned to look at him. One pair in particular, Sherlock was not pleased to see.

"We've left everything the way it was, though no doubt you'll do something rash and blow it all up," called Sergeant Anderson as he made his way over to them. Sherlock rolled his eyes, turned around and stalked out of the pavilion.

"Has anything been found?" John asked.

"What's a _girl_ doing at a crime scene?" Anderson shot back, looking Madeleine up and down.

"I'm their tour guide," she replied lightly.

Sherlock stormed back in, stepping in front of Madeleine.

"She's my apprentice, she's _learning_. What are _you_ doing at a crime scene Anderson? I hardly think you could do anything to _help_," he seethed.

"At least I don't-"

"We found a silver chain, where the body was found," Lestrade answered John, cutting Anderson off. "It's on the table over there, if you want to have a look."

Anderson muttered something under his breath before going back the way he came.

"Right, thank you." John nodded his head.

"We also found a girl."

Silence.

"She's alive, though she won't identify herself. We've tried to get her to talk, but she won't."

"Where is she?" Sherlock asked.

"In an ambulance on the other side of the driveway," Lestrade told them.

Sherlock grabbed Madeleine's wrist and dragged her out of the tent, only dropping it when they had reached the ambulance.

"Maddy!" the girl cried when she saw them. She was short, with blond hair and big brown eyes. A bright orange blanket was draped around her shoulders, and she pulled it a little more tightly around her when Sherlock's tall figure came to stand behind his daughter.

"Madeleine," Sherlock muttered. John smiled and snorted, trying to mask his laugh.

"They left me! They took Becca! I don't know what's happening, the police found me in the woods and then brought me here, but I can't tell them anything, Maddy. I'm sworn. I need to find Becca," the poor girl sobbed, outstretching her hand to Madeleine's.

"This is Lucy Brookes," Madeleine told them, smiling weakly at the girl.

"What exactly did 'they kick you out' of?" Sherlock asked. Lucy peeled her eyes from Madeleine and stared up at the man.

"I can't tell... I can't," she pleaded. Sherlock looked away and them back, plastering a soft smile on his face. He bent down to the girl's height, still smiling.

"You're safe now Lucy. If we're going to find 'Becca' we need to know what happened to _you_," he whispered.

Both girls stared at him; Madeleine with a raised eyebrow, and Lucy with widened eyes.

"The Coven," was the inaudible reply.

xsherlockx

"That was a flat out lie!" John started as they left Lucy at the ambulance.

"A little white one, I think you'll find, John. The girl wouldn't speak otherwise," Sherlock replied.

"What's she going to do when she finds out Rebecca is dead though?" the army man asked.

"Cry, I'd expect. It's really not my concern. Madeleine, could you please take us to her room?"

Five minutes and three flights of stairs later, the three of them pushed open a white door and entered the dormitory room. Madeleine flicked on the light switch, and the dark room suddenly sprang to life.

The walls were a dull pink colour, which matched the white carpet. Five single beds were set up with their heads against the walls. A bay window at the opposite end of the room looked out onto the driveway with its many police cars. It looked as though most of the ornaments, bits and pieces, and clothing had been already taken from the room, so there was not much to look for.

"What are we looking for?" John asked, a little perplexed as to what they were doing in an empty room. Sherlock didn't reply, but stepped forward to the window to look out.

"Lucy and Rebecca were in this room together," Madeleine said, sitting down on the edge of one of the beds.

"How many girls went to this school?"

"Three hundred and four."

"And nothing came up about a Coven or anything?"

"Not that I can recall..." Madeleine trailed off.

Sherlock's phone beeped in his pocket, and he fished it out to retrieve the text.

"_How's the case? Heard another girl found dead. Give Madeleine my love. Mycroft"_

Sherlock growled, and turned back to look out the window. All the small figures were crowding around the pavilion.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"Another girl has been found," Sherlock replied.

"Alive?"

"Dead. Mycroft 'sends his love', Madeleine," said Sherlock, turning back toward them.

"Do you know who?"

"No, but I have a feeling we're about to find out," the detective answered, crossing the room and disappearing

* * *

Thanks for reading.

I am aware that Madeleine is turning into a Mary-Sue, yes. But everything I seem to write appears to just turn her into a different _type_ of Mary-Sue.

I am also aware that my Sherlock is quite depressing at the moment... I think I'll make him a little more bouncy and excitable in the next chapter.

**Please Review :) **

**Much thanks.**


	4. Georgia Middleton

Dark trees surrounded the clearing, looming over the scene and blocking out the sky. The pale body lay face down in a thick pool of mud. The girl's auburn hair was tangled with sticks and grass, splaying around her shoulders, covering her neck and upper back.

Several men and women in blue hazmat suits crowded around her, taking hair samples and photographing her body. A flood light was set up a little way away, shining a harsh white light on the scene.

"Georgia Middleton," Lestrade whispered from John's side.

"Is she in the same year as Lucy and Rebecca?" enquired the doctor.

"Yes."

"Is there anything else that you've found out about her? Her relationship with Rebecca and Lucy, maybe?"

"Not a thing."

"They're getting careless!" Sherlock called from beside the body.

The two men squelched their way to the detective, coming up on either side.

"There," Sherlock pointed. "The pentagram was carved into the side of the stomach. The ring had started to heal, but the star is bleeding."

"Started to heal?"

"It was done while she was alive," Sherlock replied simply. "And some weeks ago."

"What about Rebecca? Hers would have been done after she died."

"It is simple to re-cut a wound and sprinkle something on it to make it look fresh. As I said, they're getting _careless_."

"She looks like she's been dead for a while," murmured Madeleine, from the other side of the body.

The curly haired man crouched down, flicking his coat out behind him. He outstretched a finger to the stomach of the girl, and then to the surrounding dirt.

"Footprints," he said gleefully.

"Footprints?" asked Lestrade.

"All of them are different. At least six pairs. A lynching."

"A lynching?"

"Where a group of people kill one person," Madeleine informed them.

"I've seen everything I need to see. If you find another body, text me." Sherlock strode off into the woods.

xsherlockx

"Have you been at Saint Mary's long?" John asked Madeleine as they walked back to the school building behind Sherlock.

"Since first form," she replied.

"Where were you before that?"

"My uncle's country estate, near Oxford," Madeleine's head tilted to the side as she spoke, seemingly to look for any response from Sherlock. The man in front of them did not even pause.

"With your mother?"

"A governess," she answered stiffly.

"What about your mother, though?" John continued.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Madeleine incline her head to look up at him with a furrowed brow. He turned to glance at her, but found her face completely blank of any emotion.

"I don't have a mother." She twisted back around and kept walking.

None of them spoke until they returned to Baker Street.

xsherlockx

When they got through the door of the flat, Sherlock immediately strode over to the book shelf, not bothering to put any of his things down or to hang his coat on its hook. John wandered into the kitchen to find a _clean_ kettle to boil some water. Madeleine was left by the door.

She took off her own coat and placed it on her black suitcase next to the couch. Pulling down the sleeves of her jumper, she went to stand next to her father.

"You didn't have a governess," Sherlock muttered.

"I did."

"I think you've done enough lying for the moment, Madeleine," he whispered, walking away. The girl stayed where she was.

"Oi! Where are you going?" John cried, when Sherlock was halfway out the door.

"To the bookshop!" was the loud reply. The door closed with a 'thud', and he was gone.

"Cup of tea, Madeleine?" the other man asked from the kitchen.

"No thank you, Doctor John," she replied, still facing the bookcase.

For a few minutes there was nothing but silence, save for the slowly growing noise of the kettle. John took out a mug and a tea bag, adding sugar. He returned to the living area to find the girl sifting through her suitcase.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Madeleine shot up, and spun around. A smile that would have been believable to anyone that did not know better donned her features.

"I think I'm going to go and help Daddy," she told him.

Quickly, she snatched her coat from the couch where it had been thrown, pulled it around herself and went for the door.

"Do you know where the shop is?" John called after her.

"I'll find it!" she shouted from the base of the stairs.

The doctor watched from the landing as Madeleine crossed the hallway to the front door of the building, shoving her hands in her pockets as the black wood slammed behind her.

John shrugged to himself and returned to the flat, closing the door behind him. He picked up a novel he had been reading recently and sat down in one of the arm chairs by the fireplace. Finding his page, he began to read.

About two chapters in, he heard a low buzzing noise from Sherlock's desk. Confused, he pulled himself up and went over to the wood table. John looked between the papers, books, and other knick knacks lying on the desk for something capable of making such a noise.

His own phone sat proudly under yesterday's newspaper, buzzing away. He quickly pushed the paper away and snatched it up from the pile of books.

_1 New Message._

He opened up the message, wondering what on earth someone would be doing texting him at such an hour. He looked up to see the clock reading quarter past two. He frowned; the bookshop Sherlock had gone to would not be open.

The phone screen changing brightness caught his attention, and he averted his eyes to the screen.

It was from Sherlock.

_Ran into the Coven. I require assistance. Sherlock. _

He had been kidnapped.

John paused briefly, puzzled at how such a man as a Sherlock could get himself caught.

However, he wasted no time grabbing his jacket and running out onto the street. John started running when he hit the pavement, sprinting for the bookshop around the corner. It was dark, but the street lights helped John see where he was going. The street was practically deserted, save for a drunken few on the opposite side of the road.

He rounded the corner, and came in sight of the small bookshop painted a chocolate brown colour. Its lights were off and no figures stood around it.

John stopped himself and looked around. Not a soul in sight.

His phone came out of his pocket, and he was suddenly speaking to Lestrade.

_"What is it, John? Sherlock had a breakthrough?"_

"No, actually... he, uh... went missing."

"_I'm sure he just went for a walk, John. No need to panic."_

"He's been taken. Madeleine too, I think."

"_What do you mean,_ taken_?"_

"Kidnapped!"

* * *

I hope you enjoyed chapter four.

The chapter was going to be updated sooner, but my lovely beta-reader (Who I love) decided that there was some serious grammar mistakes, and I disagreed.

**NEVER EVER ARGUE WITH YOUR BETA! THEY SEND EMAILS THAT ARE LONG AND HARD TO READ!**

Anyway, I also bought the DVD of _Sherlock_ today. So I'm going to watch them all, and get a better feel for the characters. I'm also finding that all the guessing I did with half the stuff all of them say is quite exact... very very quite exact. I scared myself even.

**Please Read and Review as I like reviews.**

Thank you.


	5. Fifty Two

John stumbled back to Baker Street, his head twisting around at odd angles to try and look at every shadow and black space in the street.

He was at the front door when a police car – flashing lights and all – pulled up in front of the building.

The back door opened.

"Get in," DI Lestrade ordered.

Doctor Watson did as he was told, pulling the door closed behind him.

"You say he was kidnapped? Sherlock Holmes?" Lestrade asked, a chuckle edging his voice.

"Do you think it's funny? The police's best ally, taken by a coven known to kill?"

"No, no it's not. Sorry," Lestrade nodded, coughing a little.

"He has his phone on him. Can we track it down?"

"Like in 'A Study in Pink'?"

"Yes, yes, like that." John pulled his own phone from his pocket, scrolling through the contacts to find Sherlock's number. He pressed the green button and pressed his phone to his ear.

"_The number you have called is not connected, please check the number and-_"

"Damn it!" he growled.

"We'll try when we get to Scotland Yard."

_xsherlockx_

Sally Donovan tried to hide her snigger as John came through the door. She straightened her face when the two men glanced over at her.

"I heard Freak got kidnapped," she stated loudly, her face spreading into a grin again. John chose to ignore the comment, and followed the inspector.

Lestrade led him down the hallway, Donovan at their heels.

"We'll have Ted put the number through his system and pinpoint where the phone is," Lestrade told them.

He turned and led them down another corridor, toward a set of double doors. Pushing through, the three of them were faced with a room full of wires and screens.

"Ted! I have a number for you," the inspector called out.

A skinny man in glasses appeared from under a desk.

"Oh?"

"Doctor Watson needs help tracking down his friend's phone," he told him.

Ted nodded, glancing to John

"John Watson, meet Ted Tyler," Lestrade gestured from one to the other.

"What are the digits?" Ted asked extending his hand to take the phone in the doctor's palm.

John quickly pulled Sherlock's number up on the screen and handed it to the man. Ted grabbed it from him and dashed around the desk to a computer. He punched the figures into the keyboard, and the four of them waited in impatient silence.

"I have a signal," Ted spoke up.

"Where is the phone?" Lestrade enquired.

"Saint Mary's College... do you know where-?"

"Donovan, call a car around. Tell anyone still at the school that if they see any sort of vehicle pull up or enter the grounds, they're to search it. Let's go, John."

_xsherlockx_

Car lights splayed blind shadows on the wall of the room, before the car turned and the space sank back into blackness.

Madeleine sat behind a bookshelf on the hard wood floor, her back leaning against the wall. A black paperback sat open in her lap, her index finger keeping it open, though she hardly paid any attention to the words.

"What are you reading?" Sherlock asked from the other side of the bookshelf.

Madeleine flipped to the front cover.

"Something about a mockingbird," she replied, turning back to her page.

"Interesting?"

"No."

"You could always help me," Sherlock muttered, moving along the isle.

"Doubtful, as I don't know what you're doing," was the reply.

"I'm trying to find a book, obviously. Why would anyone come to a_ bookshop_ for any other purpose, Madeleine?"

"Who was my mother?"

"_What_?"

"You heard me," she said, placing the book down at her side.

Sherlock's face appeared at the end of the bookshelf, a frown creasing his face. It took him two steps to tower over her seated form.

"Why do you want to know?" he growled.

"Isn't it fair that I know who I spent the first nine months of my existence with?" she bit back.

"It _really_ isn't important."

"I don't think it's for you to decide."

"Why do you choose now to ask? Why not when you were six?"

"It's a little hard to write a letter when you're six and without a teacher."

"I was writing when I was two."

"Well, aren't you just a _wonder boy_."

She looked away.

Flashing lights from outside spun through the shutters, brightening the room in quick bursts before revolving away.

"I don't know," Sherlock said finally.

Madeleine looked back to him.

"Don't _know_?" she pushed herself up.

"Of course not. You were taken to Mycroft. The first time I ever saw you, you were two months old. I was handed a birth certificate with no information, apart from my own. My brother did an _excellent _job of covering everything up."

"And that was it?"

"You were sent away to Oxford, and I didn't have to deal with you. Yes." he stalked back around the bookshelf, Madeleine following in his tracks.

"You never bothered to find out about her?" Madeleine asked incredulously.

"Why should I? Clearly she didn't want to be found." Sherlock tossed over his shoulder.

"How do I know I'm even _related_ to you?" she hissed.

Sherlock rounded back on her.

"Because you're very very clever, and only very clever people are related to _me_," he returned to searching through the books.

"Should I take that as a compliment?"

"If you want to, it doesn't really matter," he said dully.

There was a silence between the two.

"Are you, perhaps, looking for this?" she asked, pulling a thick hardback from the shelf. His eyes flickered to look at the volume, followed by his hand reaching out to snatch it from hers.

"Good to know that you understand when to drop a subject," Sherlock said, opening up the book to its contents page.

"Oh, I am _so not_ _done_ with the subject," she wheeled about and strode off back around the bookshelf.

"How did you know I was looking for this? I thought you didn't realise what I was doing?"

"I'm _very very_ clever."

"'_The Complete Book of Witchcraft_', how extremely dull," he droned.

"I predict you wanted it because of the pentagrams on the girls' bodies? Am I correct?"

"Indeed you are, Madeleine. And by judging by the amount of mistakes the culprits have made, they'd be relatively new to being 'witches', and they could possibly be schoolgirls."

"You believe a bunch of schoolgirls have been killing members of their _own _coven?"

Sherlock raised and tilted his head, looking at Madeleine through the gaps between the books.

"I never said they were murdering their _own_. But now that you bring it up, it does appear to make sense."

Madeleine stiffened, but did not reply.

"But _why_ would they be killing off their own members? Aren't witch-covens supposed to be like sisterhoods?" Sherlock went back to the book, flipping through the pages as he scanned them.

"The school library has that book," Madeleine remarked.

"I thought as much. I don't believe it is worth 52 pounds, though."

* * *

I am on FIRE!

I spent most of last night watching the _Sherlock_ episodes in rapid succession... I feel that Sherlock is more... Sherlock-y now.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It is my favourite one so far, simply because of the Madeleine and Sherlock scene.

**Remember to Review, as I do appreciate the reviews.**

**Also, if you have anything you'd like to see in this story (providing is isn't _too_ far up the wall) then I'll try and put it in. Or perhaps if you don't get something then feel free to message me, because I like messages as well.**

Thank you.


	6. The Coven

For John, the car ride back to Saint Mary's College took longer than it had before. Traffic lights appeared to remain red for extended periods and roads stretched for miles and miles.

_Sherlock could be dead._

Unlikely, as the man could probably talk his way out of any situation, provided there was a pretty face to woo. However, it was possible, and that dreadful thought kept trying to wriggle its way into John's mind.

"We're almost there sir," the driver told him. He was a nice young man, probably just out of training, with not so much as a line to crease his face.

"There have been no vehicles spotted entering or departing from the grounds," said Lestrade from beside John.

It did little to ease the doctor. Sherlock was the closest thing he had to a _friend_, even if the 'consulting detective' would only describe himself as a colleague. Plus, John could not possibly afford to stay at Baker Street without additional money from somewhere else, and he did not particularly want to ask Harry for anything.

They turned onto the gravel driveway leading up to the school. The place had an ominous air to it that pressed down on John as if trying to suffocate him. The feeling had been there before, but not as strongly.

The school came into sight only a minute later.

John glanced up at the hollow eyes of the house. Two great oriel windows on the second floor stared down at him as he got out of the car.

The tower on the left side of the building at the front spiralled up into the ink black sky. A black shape crouched upon the point of the roof – a gargoyle.

Something in one of the tower windows stirred, catching John's eye. For a moment, he thought he saw a pale face of a girl. He wiped a hand over his eyes, and when he looked again the face was gone.

"John?" Lestrade's voice penetrated the silence.

"Yeah, sorry, what?"

"I've just spoken to Ted, he says the phone should be out in the woods somewhere," the inspector told him.

All of the colour appeared to drain from John's face.

"Of course, right... shall we go then?" he offered.

The pair of them set off into the waiting darkness.

xsherlockx

It had rained since John was last in the woods.

Everything smelt of _wet_.

He could feel the toes of his shoes dampening as they were slowly saturated by droplets on the fallen leaves.

Lestrade walked a little way ahead, the spark of white light from his phone screen being the only thing that let John know where he was. All the sound in the forest was soaked up by the trees and the ground.

"He should be around here somewhere," he said suddenly.

John stopped.

"I can't see anything."

Lestrade held up his phone and shone it around the small clearing they had found themselves in.

There was nothing of significance, though John half expected to see Sherlock stride out from between the trunks and start babbling about how incredibly _late _he was.

"SHERLOCK!" he bellowed.

There was no reply, save for the quiet rustle of leaves which danced along the ground.

"Perhaps he dropped it?" Lestrade offered.

"No, he's attached to that thing. He would never drop it." John informed him, surprising himself with the sudden edge of sourness in his voice.

All was silent.

"_Perhaps it was stolen?_"

"What was that?"

"_Perhaps someone took it?_"

"Is that you, John?"

"No."

"_Perhaps, perhaps..._"

"Who's out there?" John shouted.

There was still only silence.

"_Sisters, the doctor calls to us. Shall we go to him?_"

The giggle lacing the voice spread to the rest of the trees surrounding them. It sounded like hundreds of voices laughing at the two men.

Several beats passed, and then there was a crunch of leaves. Lestrade and John spun around to see a cloaked figure _gliding_ toward them. A second figure joined the first, and then another and then another.

They stood in a ring around the men, thirteen of them, all draped in long black hooded cloaks.

The first figure was the only one they could see properly as she had dropped her hood to her shoulders. Curly blond hair was swept up behind her neck in a perfect bun, and her grey eyes led the rest of her face in a wicked grin.

"Dearest sisters, _take them_," she commanded.

It was then, that John felt a presence behind him. Something, or someone, struck him over the head.

The world turned to the black sky.

_Help us._

xsherlockx

They had been dragged down through a large stone door, and into the ground, though the doctor had not been conscious to see it.

The cavern was a little bigger than anything John would have expected for the Coven, though he was quite sure that they had not built it, merely stumbled upon some sort of tomb that was not particularly in use. Everything was crusted with dust and dirt, including the pillar at the edge of the chamber which John and Lestrade had been tied to, back to back.

The Coven stood in a circle, placing and lighting candles around an altar.

"Hail to the guardians of the South, sacred flame that sparks life in all, our protection and father, welcome to the circle," the blond girl was chanting.

She stood at the head of the stone table, a compass in her hand. Her figure turned and called to the 'guardians' of each direction.

"Hail to the guardians of the West, waters of life, where all are cleansed and reborn, welcome to the circle."

Then all the dull whisperings from the rest of the Coven fell silent, and they all stood straight, taking their places behind the candles.

The girl turned to face the altar.

"I am Sister Penelope Moore, leader of the Coven," she spoke loudly, her voice echoing off the walls of the tomb.

On the altar was a girl, her bare back flush against the cold marble. It sickened John that the rest of the figures did not go to help her. She was completely exposed, writhing under the ropes that kept her to the altar, trying to speak through the cloth that bound her mouth, whimpering.

"Sister Stephanie Patterson, you have been disloyal to your kin, and therefore shall be punished," Penelope said.

The girl squeaked.

"Like Rebecca and Georgia before you, you shall be passed into the _real world_, where you shall be tortured and slain by those in whom you have placed your trust."

No one moved; none of the figures stepped forward to help the girl.

John and Lestrade sat in silence, staring, as Penelope pulled a dagger from beneath her mantle.

"_I call upon our guardians to unbind this girl from our Coven,_

_Unbind, that is, her name from us, her face, her being_."

Penelope stepped around to the side of the altar and began to cut into the girl's flesh.

Stephanie screamed.

A vial was brought forth by one of the sisters. It appeared to be filled with water, though John supposed the substance was probably heparin. The liquid was applied to the place where Penelope had sliced the skin, and then it was taken away.

"_In her new world she will go, without you to guide her,_

_Take this sister from us and send her away, guardians."_

The candles were snuffed out, and the figures began to move toward the girl. It appeared that the ritual was complete.

Cries echoed around the chamber as the group surrounded Stephanie.

Both men shivered as the room grew cold.

The Coven left, dragging with them the naked girl.

"We need to get out of here," John said.

"How?"

"I don't know just yet."

* * *

So JUST to piss you off I made this chapter all John. How annoying and EVIL am I?

**AND, just to top it all off I have exams, WHICH MEANS I'm probably not going to be able to get a chapter up for another couple of weeks (Though I will try... my hardest...)**

**ALSO, This story could be completed fairly quickly from this point, however, I can also do a twist and make it a little longer for you.**

**So you please choose. **

**Longer or Shorter?**

I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Please remember to Review, as I like them.

Also if you have anything you would like to see in the next chapter or perhaps in some other sort of chapter, please do enlighten me, as I need some stuff to put in for fillings,  
That doesn't include Madeleine's mother, as I already know what's happening in that (As she said, WE ARE SO NOT DONE WITH THE SUBJECT!) :D

Thank you!


	7. 4:00am

"You know," she whispered.

"Of course I know. It was completely obvious, once you had pointed out the pentagram on that girl's side," Sherlock informed her. He was still looking through the book, though both of them knew perfectly well that he did not need to.

"I was only trying to help..."

"You would have been of more help if you had not taken the book out of the library in the first place," Sherlock admonished. He snapped the book shut and placed it back on the shelf.

His shoes fell heavily on the wood as he stomped from the bookstore. Madeleine followed him, though kept her distance as they left the small shop and started up the street.

They were almost at the corner when Sherlock stopped and rounded to face her.

"Tell me _why_," he all but commanded.

"I was bored," she replied softly.

"You're a _teenager_. You don't get bored. You giggle and run boys as if they're the only thing remotely interesting on the planet."

"Obviously you forgot that you sent me to an _all girls college_, Daddy." Madeleine began to get her voice back.

"Stop calling me that, you're not five," he retorted, turning away.

She looked shocked, but quickly wiped the emotion off her face.

"Fine."

He led her back to Baker Street without a word.

The flat was completely deserted when Sherlock pushed the door open. Nothing seemed to be misplaced, apart from the fact that it was close to three in the morning and John was nowhere to be seen.

"He must be upstairs," Sherlock muttered to himself.

The detective was vaguely aware of his daughter going over to his desk, as he went to the kitchen to check on a particular finger in the freezer. He heard her move things around, pushing books onto the floor and crumpling up pieces of paper. She _really_ wanted to piss him off.

"What _are _you doing?" he demanded from the archway.

Her head turned up briefly to look at him, before she went back to the desk, still tossing things aside. The dark wooden cube that usually sat upon his desk toppled off a pile of papers. Sherlock took three steps to stand beside her, his eyes searching for an answer.

"_Madeleine_," he growled.

"The phone is gone," she mumbled.

"Your phone is gone? You're worried about your phone? You just threw my cube onto the ground!"

"The cube can handle it," Madeleine hissed, "John's phone is gone."

"He's probably taken it upstairs. Shouldn't you be in bed right now?"

She straightened up and whipped around to face him, staring.

"If you were any sort of father you would have given me a bed to sleep in, but as such, I'm left to sleep on the _couch_. Apart from that, if you had _any_ sense of _anyone_ you would know that with the all the excitement we've had tonight, I doubt that your friend would get to sleep in the hour we've been in that bookstore. John is _not_ upstairs," she finished.

There was a pause. Sherlock turned, and stalked back out the flat door and up the stairs.

Madeleine collapsed onto a chair by the fireplace, pulling her own sleek black phone from her coat pocket. She was scrolling through her contacts when Sherlock returned.

He looked from to the desk, to her, to her phone.

"My phone is gone."

"Of course it is."

"Someone took it."

"Yes, they did."

"Who took it?"

"Why don't we play a guessing game? You can go through a list of people you think have taken your phone, and I'll tell you if you're correct or not." She had not looked up from the screen.

"Your sarcasm is not amusing," he glowered.

She glanced at him.

"And I was trying so hard, as well," she frowned, her voice mocking.

"What are you doing?"

"Last time you asked that question, I made you walk out."

He murmured something under his breath, and went to the doorway.

"MRS HUDSON!" he shouted down the stairwell.

"You really don't care about anyone, do you?" Madeleine's voice came from behind him. He spun around to see her phone pressed to her ear, and her staring at him with a look of mild curiosity.

"Who are you calling?"

"Doctor John."

"Give me the phone," he ordered.

She danced away from him, and over to the fireplace. After a moment, she brought the phone away from her ear.

"Not answering," she notified him.

"Call again!"

"He won't pick up. Anyway, I know where he is."

"Where?"

"Stop playing stupid, you've known for the past five minutes," she grinned as she pushed past him into the hallway.

Sherlock smiled.

xsherlockx

Lestrade's right foot was numb. He was not particularly keen on moving it, but the man he was attached to had decided otherwise.

"Almost got it," John said aloud.

"Why do you carry something like that?"

"I'm an army doctor, I need an army knife. Hold on..."

There was a snap and the rope around Lestrade's wrists loosened.

His companion was already up on his feet, shaking off the rope and flipping the knife back into his pocket.

"You're a detective inspector, why don't you have anything to cut ropes?" John asked.

Lestrade gave him a sour look and pulled himself up, testing his foot.

"Any idea where we are?" asked the doctor.

He stepped into the ring of candles, approaching the altar. A black candle sat at its head, still burning. Around the candle was a loose chain of gold with a pendant. John's brow furrowed as he got a better look at the shape. It was a pentagram. No surprise. The pendant was a little different to the rest of the chain, as it appeared to be made of cheap plastic instead of metal. However, etched into the ring were two letters, 'N' and 'H', or so they appeared to John.

"Didn't know you fancied jewellery, Doctor," Lestrade snickered behind him.

The pair eyed each other for a moment, before turning and looking away.

"Not much of a set up," the inspector commented lightly.

"I can't believe you got taken in by a bunch of _school girls_," John laughed.

Lestrade did not seem pleased.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

John grinned at him. He turned and grabbed the pendant around the candle, stuffing it into his jacket. Sherlock would want to look at it later, perhaps.

_Sherlock._

"Where is he?" the doctor's voice became serious, and Lestrade seemed to take the hint.

"Who?"

"Sherlock! Are you here?" John called. The only reply was his own echo.

"There's only us down here, John," Lestrade informed him.

"Then where is he?"

"I don't know, but he's not _here_, and neither is his little apprentice."

"The Coven must have another place," John offered as an explanation.

"They seem pretty settled in here." Lestrade was going for the stone door, and easily skipped up the few cobbled steps to the exit.

He pushed, but it appeared that the thing would not budge.

"Bugger."

"Let me help."

Together, the two men thrust their weight against the door, but the heavy stone did not move.

Lestrade pulled a radio from his pocket and tried to speak into it, but there was only static.

A 'beep' issued from John's pocket, and he pulled his phone from his jacket. There was no signal, as they were underground and probably in the middle of a forest; but he found on his phone screen:

_Alarm – 4:00am_

He did not remember timing an alarm for himself, but opened it up anyway:

'_Coming. MH.'_

John had to smile at that.

* * *

That was more of a filler chapter to make you all happy. (Kinda also because I like writing MadeleineSherlock scenes)

You guys voted for a longer story, so I've worked something out with my beta and gamma, (and run it by my delta as well) (Yes I have many people semi-editing) (but I love my beta the most... shh the others don't know though) so this story might actually end up going for a while... (hopefully).

**Please review!**

**Note: For serious this time, I may not post another chapter for about a week and a half. :(**

**REVIEW! :D**


	8. Imminence

The two men were startled by the noise ringing around the cavern.

"Is that... is that a telephone?" Lestrade backed away from the door.

John circled around the edge of the tomb, coming to stop in front of a small crevice in the wall. Candles sat upon it along with more chains and half-burnt leaves. A sleek black phone sat proudly next to a candle, its screen brightly lit with the words:

_Bart's Morgue Girl_.

The doctor snatched it up from the dusty rock, pressed the green button and held the phone against his ear.

"Hello?"

"_Err, Hi Sherlock, its Molly,"_ came the timid girl's voice.

"It's John, not Sherlock," he told her, signalling to Lestrade over the altar. The detective inspector jogged to him, coming to stand a little _too _close to hear the conversation.

"_Oh... is Sherlock there? I have, err... that is, I know how the girls died." _Molly's voice had an annoyingly proud tone to it.

"That's great. But listen, I don't know _how_ we've got a signal down here, but I got myself into a little bit of trouble, is it possible that you could contact Scotland Yard and tell them I'm near Saint Mary's College? Please," he added.

"_Well, um... yes, I suppose I could do that. Where's Sherlock?"_ she asked.

"We don't know. Wait a second," John pulled up his own phone and brought his contacts up on the screen. If Sherlock had secretly entered his phone number into the doctor's phone when they first met, then no doubt Madeleine would have done the same thing, especially as she had put an alarm in there.

He read out the number to Molly, who wrote it down at the other end.

"_And Sherlock is at that number?_"

"Probably, yes, he is," John nodded. "Tell him: Madeleine knows where I am."

"_All right, um... okay then."_

"Bye Molly," John sighed.

"_Bye_."

The phone line went dead.

"He _will_ find us," the doctor assured Lestrade.

xsherlockx

Sherlock strode across fallen leaves as they walked through the large columns of wood, his hands sunk in his pockets. Madeleine strolled at his side, her shoulders bunched up around her neck.

Wind flickered through the trees, creating light howling sounds and seizing foliage from the branches before letting it fall to the ground. The pair walked silently in the darkness.

"Are you worried?"

"Hm?"

"Doctor John, he's lost in the woods, all alone, at the mercy of a murdering Coven. Are you not worried at all?" Madeleine elaborated.

"He'll be fine," he answered. But, from the tone of his voice, Madeleine was not sure if he was assuring her, or himself.

A light buzzing alerted the girl and she pulled her phone from her pocket, frowning at the unknown number on the screen.

"Hello?" she asked quietly.

"_Hello, It's um, Molly Hooper from the morgue?_" the soft voice on the other end spoke up.

"May I help you Molly Hooper?" Madeleine asked, her eyes flickering to Sherlock, who gave her a look of concern.

After a moment, his face lit up, and he grabbed for the phone.

"Molly Hooper!" he cried, "What are you doing up so early? It has to be at least five. No matter, what brilliant news have you got for me?"

Madeleine raised an eyebrow at his enthusiasm.

"_I just... err... your phone, I called it, and John picked up. The man you came into the mortuary with?"_

"Yes."

"_He um... he told me that Madeleine should know where he is," _she relayed.

"Yes."

"_But I was actually calling you to tell you that I found how the girls died_."

Sherlock could hear the smile on her face.

"Deadly Nightshade berries, yes, thank you Molly," he hung up.

xsherlockx

"Okay," Molly breathed, placing the phone back on the table.

xsherlockx

"How did you know?" Madeleine asked, taking the phone back from him.

"In your suitcase, there was a book on plants, _Atropa Belladonna _was marked," Sherlock informed her.

"Do you go through suitcases as a hobby?" his daughter asked casually.

He eyed her for a moment before returning his gaze to the forest in front of him.

"You read John's blog," he stated dryly, more to himself than her.

"You weren't _really _going to take the pill were you?"

"Why would it matter?"

"You need to stop being so _selfish_, Daddy."

"Your hypocrisy astounds-" he cut himself off. Madeleine tilted her head to watch him, as he had paused as was peering through the trees to his left.

"Can you-" Madeleine's eyebrows shot up when he put a finger up to stop her.

Very slowly, Sherlock began to step away from her, still looking. He was cautious not to make a sound, his shoes defying the twigs and dried leaves. Madeleine followed his eye-line, trying to see what he was looking at. The swirling darkness of the forest glared back at her.

Sherlock stopped, and turned his head back toward her, a manic grin on his face.

"Caught them," he mouthed.

Madeleine's eyes lit up, and she stepped lightly to the tree he was beside. She leaned forward to squint into the shadows, and saw tiny lights in the distance, flickering between the trees.

The pair exchanged a glance, before wordlessly following the lights.

xsherlockx

"Penelope!" the red-headed girl's voice echoed through the trees.

The blond whipped around to face the group of unhooded girls behind her.

"What?" she seethed.

Alexandra, the girl who had spoken, looked back at her friends and to the unconscious body they were dragging along the ground, before turning back to Penelope.

"We just wanted to know... err... her offence," she murmured.

"Her _offence_?"

"You're our leader, and we respect that. But, we were wondering what we might get punished for... I mean-"

"I know what you mean, Alexandra," Penelope snapped. A moment passed, and a grin appeared on her face, artificial, but sympathetic.

"_You_ are in _no_ danger, dearest Sister Alexandra," soothed the blond, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Oh."

"Only those who are tainted with respect for another will be punished as Stephanie has been. Now come, my sisters, another point needs to be added to our pentagram."

The Coven continued through the woods silently; only the hollow moans of Stephanie, the flutter of leaves and the dull thudding of their footsteps penetrated the silence.

It was a while before any of the girls noticed the two additions to the group.

Sister Grace screamed.

"Good evening ladies," Sherlock tilted his head forward in mock decorum.

Heads shot around, and small gasps and squeaks of surprise were passed on like a chain of war beacons. Their leader was the last to notice the man, and came storming back through the girls to see what was happening.

Penelope stopped short when she saw him, and Madeleine standing at his side.

Both father and daughter had an expression of curiosity and mild amusement on their faces.

"Penelope," she acknowledged the blond.

"Madeleine," her antagonist growled in reply.

"Sherlock," he drawled, clearly bored already.

"I didn't receive an invitation to your party," Madeleine told her.

"What are you doing here? Who's he?" Penelope shot back.

Sherlock made a 'tch' noise, but said nothing.

"We're in the middle of something, so please, go back to the hole you crawled out of," Penelope hissed.

The Holmes' faces darkened and they both glared at her, though Madeleine was first to speak,

"I can see you're _quite_ busy, Penelope, murdering can be quite time consuming," her tone was almost deadly.

"She will die," Sherlock added, nodding toward the half visible body of Stephanie.

"She's been disloyal to her sisters."

"Disloyal?" his daughter straightened.

Penelope switched her gaze to Madeleine, glaring still, "Rebecca, Georgia, Lucy, and Stephanie, all tried to follow _you_, to abandon their sisters. You set the example to our Coven that they can simply leave when they want to. _No one can renounce their position here_."

"When was that rule written?" Madeleine frowned.

"Things changed after you left."

"I can see. This group has drifted far from the changing of grades-' Sherlock glanced sharply at her, '-and class skipping that it used to practise."

"Well I suppose that's what happens when you create a Coven and then abandon it to make its own way."

"You weren't supposed to start _murdering_, Penelope." Madeleine took a step forward, "No one is _that_ stupid. Everyone in your 'Coven' is so scared they'll be next that they don't dare cross you, it's a shame you took the lives of those that stood up to you. And you killed them the way a _coward_ would. Poison? Really Penelope, if you wanted to get revenge properly you should have stabbed them in the back with a dagger, instead of taking the easy way out."

"Revenge? You think-"

"You couldn't handle me deserting you, so you took it out on anyone that tried to follow."

"Selfishness, Madeleine," Sherlock muttered in mock reprimand from behind her.

"Let Stephanie go," she demanded in a low voice.

"No."

The wind picked up around them, sending the cloaks and coats billowing.

"All right, no one will be penalised for anything they have done if they follow me now. Anyone wishing to follow Penelope may stay, until the police find them," Madeleine called.

Twelve pairs of eyes stared back at her.

"They won't follow you now, Madeleine," sneered Penelope.

Madeleine's blue eyes locked hers.

"Alex, will you help me with Stephanie?" she asked, moving around the blond and bending down by the unconscious girl.

Several girls moved to help her, while others stood frozen, looking to Penelope for guidance.

"_Don't you dare_," the blond hissed.

Madeleine paid no attention to her, and with the help of Alexandra and three others, she wrapped Stephanie up in her coat and was in the process of hoisting her onto Grace's back when Sherlock stepped in and swept the girl up in his arms.

His daughter hid a laugh behind her hand.

"If you'd be so kind, Penelope, I have forgotten where the tomb is..." she blinked.

"I'll show you," Alexandra offered, smiling ever so slightly.

"You're not going _anywhere_." The Coven's leader had her cheeks pulled up in an unseemly smile.

Something glinted in her hand.

* * *

Aren't you all lucky, It's extra long (even though it really isn't) just for you! Because I kept you waiting for so long! I'm SUPER SORRY.

**In the two or three weeks I haven't posted (Again, REALLY SORRY) things have been going on concerning this story. **

**Now, I have discussed with my beta, and we have decided to have another part to this story.  
**

HOW EXCITING IS THAT?  
So the end of 'The Coven' case will not be the last see you of Madeleine.

Of course it's up to you guys, so if you want the second part please feel free to review and express your joy at the fact that I have a time-line and story plot up on my kitchen wall (no joke, this is going to be a serious story). I have all holidays to write it.

I'd love to thank my lovely Beta, who has helped me through all of these chapters (I owe her another box of oreos as payment), and my Omega who just helped me with this particular chapter and reads them when they get posted, and my Delta, who reads the chapters for the fun of it, and of course to check that nothing is amiss. So thank you to them!

Hopefully the next chapter is updated soon.

Gosh, I just realised I need to go and write that.


	9. Soup

Sunlight spilled over the horizon, painting the sky pale oranges and yellows, and the clouds a soft pink. Birds began to call to each other over the tree tops, flitting in and out of the light. The singing of the birds, however, was not the only sound adding to the morning chorus. The wail of an ambulance drifted down the driveway of the old house as it sped away.

Three men emerged from the wood. The one in uniform gently guided the other two across the gravel and toward another ambulance. Brightly coloured blankets were thrown over their shoulders as they stared vacantly at their surroundings.

"What's the time?" the shorter man asked.

"It's seven twenty, mate," the policeman supplied. He smiled, before leaving them standing in the middle of the gravel.

Lestrade clicked into gear after a moment of quiet and marched himself after the man. John stared after him, shrugging the orange blanket closer around himself.

"Doctor John!" a voice burst out behind him.

He turned to see a pair standing next to a police van, the girl smiling and the man looking disinterested. The corners of his mouth turned up and he made his way over to the two.

As the doctor drew closer, he found that despite her grin Madeleine looked a little pained, and Sherlock's look was more of concern than disinterest.

"Are you all right?" she asked, eyeing the orange blanket.

He blinked. "Yeah, yeah, fine, I guess."

xsherlockx

According to John's bedside clock, it was '8:37pm'. A heavy feeling settled over the doctor as he realised he had spent the day in bed, a day which should have been spent at work, a day which he could have spent flirting with Sarah.

"Damn..." he muttered, rolling over.

Something smelled _bloody_ good though.

He dragged himself from the tangle of sheets and managed some pants, a t-shirt and slippers before opening the door and shuffling down to the kitchen. Apart from Sherlock's usual experiments on the central island, a bowl of soup sat, steaming away.

It took John approximately three seconds to claim the bowl and spoon beside it. He wandered into the lounge area – bowl still in hand – and was quietly relieved that there was no one occupying the room. Sitting himself down in one of the armchairs, he sighed, savouring the silence.

"I can't _believe_ you," a muffled shout came from behind the apartment door.

There were several thuds as feet made their way up the stairs, and then a louder one as the door to the kitchen was swung open from the hallway.

John groaned inwardly, and tried to be as interested in his soup as he possibly could.

"There's not much else for your here," Sherlock's voice grew louder as he entered the lounge. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed John in his customary seat, but only paused for a brief moment before moving over to the desk and opening his laptop.

There was a clatter in the kitchen, as something fell that John couldn't see. Madeleine joined them,

"I'm _not_ going," she stated.

"Well you might just have to," Sherlock retorted.

"Nice walk?"

Both of them looked toward John as though he had two heads before starting up again.

"It's not your choice."

"Well it isn't yours either if you're not going to play 'parent'."

"That again?" the detective droned, sitting down.

"I'd much rather stay with Doctor John." She folded her arms, obviously decided.

"I'm so glad you'd rather stay with _him_ and not_ me_,"

She paused.

"I can't tell if you're serious or not..."

"Won't you have Mycroft to annoy? That's always fun."

"No, I get stuck with his girlfriend, and you know how dull she is."

"I wasn't aware my brother _did_ relationships."

"You'll let me stay with you won't you, Doctor John?" Madeleine turned to him.

She was _not_ pleading, which irked him a little; her voice had more a demanding tone. That he had just woken up after a long night of running after _her _classmates added another factor to his prejudice against her at that moment.

After a silence, he managed, "I suppose..."

Madeleine threw her father a victory smile, before collecting her half-open suitcase off the couch and disappearing out of the room.

"Now I have to find her something to do," Sherlock sighed.

He began to type, seemingly unbothered.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"What happened at Saint Mary's?"

The sharp tapping stopped as the consulting detective considered the question.

"Madeleine solved the case," was all he said.

"M-_Madeleine_?" John spluttered into his soup.

Sherlock turned his head ever so slightly to gauge the doctor's reaction before a smile turned the ends of his lips up.

"Well, one point to her then," John chuckled.

"No." Sherlock spun in his seat to face John. "She already knew everything, which does not count."

John's chuckle grew into a laugh, which caused a momentary look of confusion from his friend.

After he had calmed down, John asked, "So when did _you_ figure it all out?"

"When we went to Saint Mary's the first time. I already knew they were using Wiccan methods to kill their victims, and the pentagrams on the girl's sides being already cut when they were alive suggested that it was done by choice. The only reason a sisterhood of witches would kill each other is through betrayal. I learnt that through the book I found at the bookstore, the same one they had in the library at their school, which I now have to pay a 52 pound fine for. But all that only proved that Madeleine knew everything already, I was merely accompanying her after that."

"Well that seems a little boring..."

"Indeed." Sherlock swivelled back to his laptop.

John slurped up more of his soup, and Sherlock replied to an e-mail.

"So, when I was in the cave with Lestrade, where were you?"

"In a taxi."

"And where were you when they stripped us both naked and decided to put us in a pot to boil?"

"... _Sorry_?" Sherlock whipped back around.

John smirked at his own joke.

"You were at the school when I showed up, and Madeleine had sent me a message telling me you were coming. _And_ I got a call from Molly Hooper on _your_ phone."

"Where is my phone?"

"Dunno. Answer the question."

Sherlock gave him a sharp look before replying, "We ran into the Coven."

"Right."

"They had a girl with them who they were planning to kill. Number one priority is to solve the case, number two is to make sure no one gets killed."

John looked slightly appalled, but nodded for Sherlock to continue.

"So we took the half-dead girl back to the school building where Madeleine had already called for an ambulance," Sherlock finished.

"And the cut?"

"What cut?"

"I'm a doctor, Sherlock, not an idiot. Madeleine has a cut up her arm the length of the channel tunnel," John told him.

"Let's not exaggerate, John," Sherlock replied.

"You don't even _care_ though," he retorted.

"What would you like me to do? Put her to bed and spoon feed her soup while her _arm_ gets better?" Sherlock growled, eyeing the soup in John's lap.

A held back _giggle_ escaped John's lips. Sherlock's face grew darker.

"So what happened?" John asked when he had composed himself.

"Nothing," Sherlock huffed. He folded his arms, and turned away.

"Fine, then I'll find something for Madeleine to do. How long do you think she will stay? Considering that Saintt Mary's has most probably been shut down permanently," John asked out loud.

He went back to his soup, and watched out of the corner of his eye as Sherlock stared at the laptop screen.

"There was a knife," Sherlock mumbled after a while.

"Go on."

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably, he really wasn't used to being patronised.

"Sherlock," John urged from behind him.

His webpage refreshed itself, and a new e-mail shone proudly in bold. Thankful for a distraction, Sherlock ignored John's gaze and opened it up.

"Brilliant," he breathed.

"What?"

But the detective was already up and grabbing his coat from its hook. There were thumps down the stairs and a loud bang as the front door to 221 closed.

John frowned at his empty bowl.

xsherlockx

"Did Daddy leave?" Madeleine asked, reappearing in the kitchen as John looked for more food.

"Yup."

"Where did he go?"

"No idea."

"Why is there a sword in his room?"

John straightened up and turned to look at her.

"It's Sherlock... does he have a reason for anything?"

"It was in his sock drawer," she told him.

"I honestly don't know, Madeleine," John sighed.

"There is a scratch on the table."

"That's been there for a while."

John went back to looking through a cupboard. He could not decide between some biscuits or half stale cake.

"The sword made the scratch."

He smiled to himself, and turned back to –

"_Jesus!_" he jumped back.

Madeleine had the sword by the hilt , seeming to have pulled it from thin air, and was holding it up. She tipped it forward to the table – causing John to flinch – and ran the tip along the scrape.

"You guys don't... you know... do role-play stuff or something." Her eyes flickered up to meet his.

"_What? _God – Madeleine. _No!_" he stammered.

Her eyes widened, but the smallest hint of amusement still held there.

"It's all right if you do," she said plainly. "I'm going to put this back."

Madeleine promptly left him in the kitchen.

xsherlockx

John decided on the stale cake, and seated himself down in front of the telly, opting for a show that did not require constant attention.

"He's sleeping with another woman," a low voice said from behind him.

The cake tumbled to the ground, the plate it was sitting on following with a loud 'clang'.

"What the _hell, _Sherlock?"

"It's obvious isn't it? He's not touching her, or sitting close to her, or even looking at her, not to mention that there's a small indentation on his left ring finger where his wedding band would be. Surely he would have put it back on for the show..."

"Where did you disappear to?"

"Scotland Yard, you weren't needed. I picked up some files."

"A new case already?" John hurriedly muted the telly and shifted himself to get a better look at the detective.

"Not for me, for Madeleine."

John frowned, "You're giving Madeleine a case?"

"You will help her."

"I'm _sorry_?"

"He means babysitting..." Madeleine's voice came from the room behind the fridge.

Sherlock's head twisted up at an odd angle toward the door.

"What's she doing in _my room_?" he hissed.

"You want me to babysit your daughter? Do I get paid? What are you going to be doing?"

Sherlock looked back down to John, beginning in a low tone;

"I have other things that need attending too, smaller cases. I will get paid _money_ for them, John, and with all the bills I thought you'd be pleased that I took the responsibility to find myself some jobs to keep up an income instead of spending my time trying to find something to occupy my daughter while she stays here," Sherlock smiled, a little _too_ pleased with himself.

"What's the case?" Madeleine asked, appearing at the archway.

"A murder."

"Obviously."

John eyed Sherlock as he crossed the room, handing a folder to Madeleine.

She opened it, scanning the first page, while John sighed.

"Hubert Walton. Weight: three hundred and thirty pounds."

* * *

Ninth Chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.

**Oh yes, you're getting another case.**

**Please remember to review**. It brings a smile to my face each time I see I have a new one. It only takes a couple of seconds :)

Oh yeah, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone :)


	10. One, Former, Hubert Walton

Silence hung around the flat.

"And he died on a street corner. Right next to a pub... Are you sure you need my help?" Madeleine glanced up at Sherlock.

"He was stabbed," Sherlock stated blankly.

"Yes, there _are_ people who carry knives."

She absently scratched the back of her hand, her eyes returning to the pages in front of her, while Sherlock crossed over to one of the two windows, looking down at the street.

"The 'smaller cases' you're undertaking, Daddy, what are they?" his daughter asked from behind him.

"Nothing that concerns..." he trailed off, his brows knitting together.

The unexpected silences were starting to irritate John. Sherlock and Madeleine may have had some weird telepathic connection, but he really needed things to be explained.

"What?" John asked sharply.

"Mycroft is here," Sherlock sighed, ignored Madeleine and John's raised eyebrows, and crossed into the kitchen.

Madeleine dashed to the window, glanced down at the street, turned, put the folder on Sherlock's desk, and practically ran after her father.

John was considerably confused.

Over the next few moments, he heard three raps on the front door below them, and Mrs Hudson bustling from her own apartment to answer it. A few words were exchanged before the door was closed and footsteps were heard on the stairs.

Dark mutterings and whispers from the kitchen cut short when Mrs Hudson opened the door leading into the lounge.

The doctor straightened in his chair as Mrs Hudson smiled at him,

"Mr Holmes is here to see Sherlock, dear."

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson," John heard Mycroft say before he stepped into the room. The landlady nodded and quickly closed the door.

Stale cake successfully devoured, John stood up from his chair and stuck his hand out toward the man. Mycroft smiled tightly at him, but did not shake the hand, glancing around the flat.

"Where is Sherlock?" he asked.

John leaned forward to peer through to the kitchen, but saw no one there.

"I'm not sure, he was just here."

"I am _still_ here!" a call came from the archway leading to the kitchen, and the detective reappeared, his daughter close behind him, hissing something under her breath.

"_Madeleine_," Mycroft greeted his niece when the two joined them in the lounge.

"Uncle," she returned, stepping out from behind Sherlock and folding her arms across her chest.

John watched as glances were exchanged between Sherlock and Mycroft, and Madeleine's face grew darker. The doctor cleared his throat, sitting back down.

"Are you here for a reason, Mycroft?" Sherlock almost growled.

"Why yes, I believe I am; two, to be specific. The first is to enquire as to whether you have accepted the case I sent you this evening. The second is to take Madeleine back to Oxford."

The chill in the room returned from Sherlock and Madeleine's previous argument, and John immediately understood why Madeleine and Sherlock had taken an unusual defensive stance against Mycroft.

"Shouldn't you be in a meeting somewhere? Talking to presidents?" Sherlock asked.

"I have always believed family is far more important."

John heard Madeleine snort before she dropped her gaze to her shoes.

"Then you should be pleased to know that I have given the case to Madeleine and John. As her father, _I_ believe that her education is _very_ important, so I have taken it upon myself to educate her, especially now that we know her school turns out murderers," Sherlock smiled; Madeleine echoed it, and Mycroft returned it.

"You're finally doing what I say."

Sherlock's smile vanished, "_No_, Madeleine is."

"Madeleine is _what_?" the girl in question asked, turning her head up to look at her father.

"Mycroft needs help with his job. He's a little incompetent."

Madeleine smiled again, lowing her head to hide it from Mycroft.

"At least I bothered to check how you were doing, how _Madeleine_ was doing."

"You didn't appear to care before. She had to get herself to Scotland Yard to find me because _you_ didn't take her back to Oxford." Sherlock's voice was low and deadly.

"I would be happy to now."

"No, I can't trust you to take care of her anymore."

"But you can trust Doctor Watson? Tch, Sherlock, what happened to family?"

John watched at the small smirk on Mycroft's face grew wider as Sherlock muttered something about 'arch-enemy' and circled around his brother to the window. Mycroft absently tapped his umbrella on the floor, turning his head up to look at Sherlock.

"You remember Miss Adler, don't you, Sherlock?" he asked.

Madeleine's eyes snapped up from looking at her shoes. The disgusted look on her face caused a small smirk to appear on John's. He raised an eyebrow as she turned to him and mouthed '_bitch'_. John turned back to the tight lipped argument Sherlock and Mycroft were having, the smirk still apparent:

"... doing back here?"

"I thought perhaps Madeleine needs a role model, someone to whom she can relate," Mycroft answered easily.

"_Relate to?_" Madeleine started. "The only thing I can relate to that _witch,_ is a wooden b –"

"- Madeleine is perfectly content, thank you Mycroft," Sherlock growled from the window, cutting across Madeleine.

"_Fine._" His daughter matched his tone, though it wasn't directed at Mycroft. "I have things to attend to. Let us away to the morgue, Doctor John."

"Do you think that's safe, Sherlock? Your daughter going to a morgue?"

"Come on." Madeleine seized the doctor's wrist and pulled him through the door, sending him up the stairs to his room to change.

xsherlockx

"What's the time?" John asked as they climbed into the back of the taxi.

"Close to ten thirty," Madeleine replied, sitting herself back on the seat. "Will Ms Molly still be there?"

"Molly? Uh, maybe." John cleared his throat, turning his head to look out the window.

Madeleine was quiet for a few moments, before she took her phone out and began aimlessly searching through her contacts. Out of the corner of his eye, John saw the name 'Irene Adler', and his interest in the woman was renewed.

"So who's this 'Miss Adler' Sherlock was talking about?" he ventured, looking back toward her.

"A friend," Madeleine muttered in return, not turning away from her phone screen.

"The governess you were talking about before at the college?" he asked.

A smirk appeared on Madeleine's face as she tilted her head up toward him. "No, Uncle's idea of a good match for Daddy."

If he had been drinking something, John would have spluttered. Alas, only his eyebrows shot up at her statement. He really could not picture anyone as a 'good match' for Sherlock. The surprise of the detective having a _daughter_ was big enough; the doctor did not really need to know _how_ Sherlock came to have her.

"But?" he coughed.

"But she's a total bitch," Madeleine returned to her phone. "Sure she's attractive, but she _knows _she is. Daddy doesn't need someone around who thinks she's better than she actually is, when she's clearly _not_."

John had to smile.

"Besides, she and Daddy don't get along anyway. He hates her. Well... I say 'hate'..." She looked back up at him. "The first time he met her, he _did_ look a little intrigued, but when he started talking to her, it was like someone had given him a murder case and it had turned out to be the brother because of some childhood feud about a tricycle; a complete disappointment."

The doctor frowned, and then had to cough to cover his chuckle.

"She's _incredibly_ fun to prank call though," Madeleine told him. "She lives in America, but she's one of Uncle's flunkeys – a stooge if you will – so she gets to go to all of these amazing places around the world. I'm pretty certain she was helping with those Korean elections... or something... "

"And she's come to London to meet Sherlock?" John asked.

"Possibly," Madeleine shrugged. "Uncle's really interested in Daddy's social life."

"I'm assuming that's a bad thing."

Madeleine smiled. "Ms Molly is more suited to Daddy than Irene is."

xsherlockx

"Ms Molly!" Sherlock's daughter grinned when she pushed the door open into the morgue.

The young woman standing over a corpse of a forty year old woman jumped when her quiet was interrupted, spinning around to face the door. She really hadn't had enough _time_ to think about Sherlock having a _daughter_, and suddenly having the girl barge into her morgue like Sherlock would have was just a little too much.

"Oh, um, hello."

John followed Madeleine into the room, smiling sheepishly at Molly. "Sorry if it's too late, Molly."

"It's fine." Molly forced a smile. "Is Sherlock with you, then?"

"No," Madeleine replied for him. The girl wandered over to the table Molly was standing at, and glanced over the body.

"Asphyxiation?"

"Uh, yes, actually," Molly nodded.

"We wanted to have a look at Hubert Walton; his file said he came to St. Bart's," John told Molly.

"Oh, yes, hold on a moment." Molly disappeared into an adjoining room. She had no idea what had possessed her to _help_.

Madeleine whistled as they waited, still looking over the dead body on the table.

After a few moments Molly reappeared pushing a trolley with a bag covered body on it. She wheeled it into the middle of the room, and began unzipping.

Madeleine and John approached the trolley, looking over the mound of flesh that was Hubert Walton.

His face was round, stubble covering the skin on his jaw and around his mouth. Light strawberry blond hair had sprouted about halfway across the top of his scalp, framing his receding hairline perfectly. He had an odd shaped nose, flat, as though it had had a brick thrown at it when he was younger – and slightly oval shaped.

"Stabbed in the chest?" Madeleine asked rhetorically as she snapped on a pair of gloves.

"Yes. Oh, a-and his clothes... " Molly disappeared again.

Madeleine prodded at the skin surrounding the wound. It was an odd sight for John, seeing a young girl interested in death.

"Well placed, directly between the fourth and fifth rib," he heard her mutter.

"Are his glasses there?" the girl asked when Molly returned with a clear plastic bag. Madeleine ran a finger over the bridge of his nose, where – John could see now – there were little indentations where glasses had pushed in on the skin.

"Yes," Molly confirmed, setting the bag down on a clear bench next to Hubert.

Madeleine was quick to begin rummaging through Hubert's clothing: a hoodie, t-shirt, pair of jeans, sneakers, socks, a wallet with a couple of pounds in it and the glasses.

John was vaguely aware of Molly going on about the dead man on the table as he watched Madeleine:

"... he works in IT and lives with his sister in a small flat. She didn't know anyone that would have wanted to kill him –"

"Where does his sister live?" Madeleine looked up.

"Oh, in an apartment, I have it in his file." Molly handed her a clip board with various sheets of paper on it.

"Let's pay a visit to his sister."

"It's at least eleven, Madeleine, can't it wait until the morning?" John suggested.

Madeleine gave him a look. "_Fine._"

She peeled off her gloves, handed the clip board back to Molly and swept out of the morgue.

"Sorry..." John offered as he left.

xsherlockx

Baker Street was dark and silent when the two pushed open the door into the kitchen.

"Sherlock?" John called into the darkness, switching the light on in the kitchen.

Madeleine had already moved ahead into the lounge, while John turned into Sherlock's bedroom. Seeing nothing stirring in the darkness, and feeling a slight twinge of panic, he returned to the kitchen and crossed into the lounge. Madeleine had turned on the light, but still there was no sign of Sherlock.

The lounge was a mess. Sherlock's arm chair looked as though it had been kicked over, and papers from his desk were littering the ground. John's favourite mug, which he had earlier had some tea in, was now lying on the floor in pieces, a dark pool of tea soaking into the carpet surrounded the small sharp edges.

"Found him," Madeleine sighed from beside the couch. She was staring down at the ground.

From his vantage point, John could not see anything because the coffee table was in the way. He stepped around a pile of papers and stood behind Madeleine.

Sherlock's feet stuck out from under the couch, the hem of his blue dressing gown just visible.

"_What the bloody hell are you doing_?" John asked. The tone of his voice caused Madeleine to back at him over her shoulder.

Madeleine nudged Sherlock's foot with the toe of her shoe. The two heard a groan, and the two feet were pulled under the couch.

"He had a fight with Uncle," Madeleine said blankly, shrugging. She began to unbutton her coat, walking away toward the kitchen.

"About _what_?"

"Who knows? He doesn't talk after fights with Uncle," Madeleine told him. "_Let alone answer emails_," she added darkly.

"So what do we do?" John asked from the archway, motioning his hand up in Sherlock's general direction.

"Leave him, he'll get over it."

"That's it?"

"That's it," she confirmed, hanging her coat over one of the chairs pushed up against the kitchen table.

John stared at her.

"Tomorrow, we visit Julie Walton," she announced, before disappearing into Sherlock's room.

* * *

Im grinning sheepishly as I post this to you guys. I'm **SO SO VERY SORRY!**

I know it has been a while, but some things needed to be sorted out with the new year and everything. I didn't want to flood my lovely beta with any more work than I know we both have too. However, about a week and a half ago I got a review which went something along the lines of 'Please post something, I miss seeing updates'. So then began the burning need to write a new chapter. Hello Chapter Ten.

Thank you, all you awesome people, for following, reviewing and making sure I actually update. THE HIATUS IS OVER!

**Please remember to review because honestly, it makes me want to write more, LONGER, chapters for you :D**


	11. Juwie Wawhton

John's morning ran relatively smoothly: he successfully accomplished eating toast without Sherlock interrupting, asking for opinions on whatever murder had his attention, or having to move because an experiment was bubbling over onto the kitchen counter. Of course, the detective had not bothered to interact with him – let alone begin any tests on body parts - since last night. Sherlock had somehow managed to move himself from under the couch and into his own bedroom during the course of the night, which seemed like a relative improvement to John. The doctor had offered to toast some bread for Sherlock or to make him a cup of tea, but the feet sticking out from under the duvet had not made any reply. John simply smiled to himself as he returned to the kitchen. Madeleine made no comment.

John had had - despite getting home a little later than he would have liked – a good night's sleep; though he _had_ been awakened by a certain young black-haired girl, who had grinned at him suspiciously and then pointed to the alarm clock beside his bed. She had disappeared before his eyes could focus on the clock. It was 6am.

He was disappointed to find that they were going to a two-bedroom flat in South Harrow on Minehead Court, owned by the infamous Julie Walton, but did not let that deter him from his shower, toast, or relative enjoyment of a quiet morning.

When the pair of them arrived at the small flat, a peroxide blond woman greeted them at the door. Julie was stout and had the habit of dropping her 'r's and a few 'l's.

"Oh yeah, we moved heah just a few months ago. Hubuwt wanted a pwace cwohser to the rivah, but it's onwy a coupue of mighwes away, and evewything is so expensive now. Say, whah did you say you was fwom? Scotwand Yawed?"

The look on Madeleine's face told John she was _not _enjoying the woman's speech impediment, or lack of grammar.

Julie led them through the front door and down a hall to what she called the 'Weception Aweeah'.

"Would you wike a cup of tea?" she asked politely. Both Madeleine and John shook their heads, but the woman toddled off into the kitchen anyway.

"What's Hubewt gone and done now then? I has towed him, I did, not to get in wif awe them authowity people." Julie re-entered the room with three mugs and a teapot on a tray. She placed them in front of her silent guests and busied herself with pouring the hot tea into the mugs.

"You know, the otheh day he found this USB on the gwound in some dahwk aweey, and some man's ID cahwd," she nattered on.

John felt Madeleine sit a little higher next to him, listening.

"He was obsessing abouwt it awe week, some Samuewe man fwom a bank awe summin," Julie told them, sitting back in the couch across the coffee table.

"Samuel Jones?" Madeleine asked, sitting even further forward on her part of the couch. She looked as though her mind was whirring horribly fast for a girl her age, but a spark in her eye when she glanced at John told him she was onto something.

John racked his mind for anything on 'Samuel Jones', and was quietly surprised to find that Madeleine had read the newspaper the week before, for that was the only time John could recall seeing the name.

"Uh, possibwey, I neveh weally pay any attention to Hubewt... do you think I'm ah howhible sistah?" Julie cocked her head to the side.

"Not in the least, Ms Walton. You wouldn't happen to have the USB or ID card would you?" Madeleine smiled. The false civility was not lost on John though.

"If it was gowing to be anywhah, it would be in his woom."

"May we take a look?" John asked.

For a brief moment, Julie looked a little sour, before nodding and standing.

She led them back down the hall, and to a white door. Hubert's sister pushed the door open, and showed them into the small, dark, and messy room. Clothing was strewn across the floor, tumbling out of the washing basket in the corner. The bed was atrociously made up, and it reminded John a little of Sherlock's bed, though less antique, smaller, and a little more metallic.

"He ain't weawee been home in a whiwe," Julie told them, moving over and sitting down on the bed.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Madeleine asked from the wooden chest of drawers under the small window.

"Uh, maybwe wast week. I cawn't think of whawht he must have been doing befowh he died. Bwoody idiot, thats whawht he was. Awhways got himsewf into twouble when we was youngah."

"Thank you for letting us into your apartment, Ms Walton," Madeleine told the woman, turning back from the drawers. "We are truly sorry for your loss."

"Awh, it's okay. We wewn't that cwose anyway."

xsherlockx

"Say, awen't you a bit young to be wohking for Scotwand Yawed?" the two of them heard Julie say as John pulled the front door of the flat closed behind them.

"You think it's suspicious," Madeleine told him as they stood on the curb, trying to hail a taxi.

"What is?"

"That she wasn't upset that her brother had died."

"I did think it was a little strange. I'd like to think that my sister _might_be a little upset if I happened to end up at St Bart's."

"Well it would be your own fault if she wasn't."

John cast Madeleine a dark, though curious, look.

"I saw your phone," the girl explained.

John 'hmphed' in reply.

xsherlockx

Madeleine shifted her body toward John in the taxi, turning her head. "Samuel Jones was the CFO for the HSBC bank. He disappeared last week after work. Scotland Yard is still looking for him."

John did not reply. For a brief moment Madeleine wondered whether he was angry at her for bringing up his sister, but continued anyway:

"This," she held up a lanyard with a small white plastic card attached to it, "was on the drawers in Hubert's room. It's Samuel's ID card for the bank. I think that's how we'll get through security if we need to go and search his office at Canary Wharf."

"_Canary_ _Wharf_? Madeleine, that's –"

"- I also found this," she interrupted him. The girl held a short, silver stick up in front of him, only about half an inch wide, and an inch-or-so long. She held it over his lap, motioning him to take it from her.

John did so, turning it over in his hands. "It's the USB."

"Yes. What do you see?"

"A silver USB stick..."

Madeleine nodded for him to continue.

"It's metal... it has scratches on it here... its obviously missing its lid." John stopped, handing it back to her.

"So? It's a USB used for his work or something, heaps of people have them."

Madeleine was hardly paying attention, simply turning the device over and over with her fingers.

_Metal – Sterling silver, gold rimming near the connector. Expensive USB. Used by someone with money. _

_Scratches on the rimming – Gold is relatively soft. Made with another harder metal. Possibly kept with keys. Keys are important to people. Important information kept on it._

_Missing lid – Not something usually missing from a USB. Possibility of the USB being misplaced. Stolen._

_Lack of any company logo – Not mass produced. Perhaps only a couple of them made. Specifically made for a certain purpose. _

_Scratches on the USB connector – Over-used. The important information was used a lot._

_Blood – A small spot of blood on the back. _

"Why would someone want a USB stick?" Madeleine asked herself.

To John, it seemed as though the girl already knew they answer.

xsherlockx

John had insisted that they go back to the flat to check on Sherlock. He had never seen the detective in this sort of state before, and even though he was pretty sure Sherlock did not eat on a regular basis, John wanted to make sure he was not starving to death in his bedroom.

"He's just throwing a tantrum, Doctor John. It just shows you who the actual child is in the family." Madeleine waved it off as they climbed out of the taxi.

"I can't believe I have to babysit _both_ of you," he muttered to himself as they climbed the stairs.

"A lady was in here to see you before, John, dear!" Mrs Hudson called up after them.

"Thank you Mrs Hudson! I'll be sure to give Sarah a call back!" he returned.

"Oh but dear, it wasn't Sa-!"

Madeleine shoved the door closed behind her. She hung her coat and scarf up on Sherlock's usual hook. Where the detective's clothing was now, neither could say.

"Daddy has a laptop, correct?" Madeleine asked John. The doctor nodded, pointing to the computer on the desk in the lounge. The girl smiled to herself, and crossed the room to the table, sitting herself down.

"I'll just check what's on the USB," she told him.

John nodded, turning around the corner and into the kitchen. He slowed his steps as he approached Sherlock's open door. A voice could be heard through the small crack the door made. John pressed himself up against the frame, trying to shift his head into a position so he could see the bed through crevice.

He was surprised to see that the light was on in the room, and Sherlock was no longer hiding under the covers, but facing away from the door on top of them. The detective appeared to be curled up in the foetal position, with his arms wrapping around his knees. What surprised John even more, was the long-legged woman, perched on the bed by Sherlock's feet.

She was, basically, stunning, surpassing Madeleine's attractiveness by miles. The woman's dark red hair waved and curled over her shoulders, though the front locks were pinned to the back to keep them away from her face. Her skin was relatively tanned, and flawless, stretching over a strong chin, cheek bones and nose. Her lips were painted perfectly with honey-red lipstick. She wore a well-fitted black suit-jacket and skirt. The black heels on her feet were far higher than anything John had seen Sarah wear.

"Sherlock, darling, what good is it to stay holed up in here all day? You should be outside, tanning that pale skin," the woman was saying. John recognised an American accent, but could not pin-point which part of America it was from.

Sherlock made no reply, not even deeming to roll over and fix her with a glare.

"You're so annoying when you're in one of these moods!" The woman's voice quickly took on an angry tone, and she stood, flattening out the front of her skirt. She folded her arms across her chest, and tapped her foot on the ground.

"Where's my dearest little Madeleine anyway? Have you sent her to a boarding school already? Mycroft said you were planning to keep her here, though I doubt that you could possibly manage that on your own," she huffed, striding around to the other side of the bed. Clearly she was not amused with what she saw on Sherlock's face, because she huffed again and walked decidedly toward the door.

John jumped back just before she reached the wooden door, quickly stepping toward a counter top in the kitchen and picking up a spoon that had been left there. He looked around for something to do with the spoon, and was just about to throw it in the sink when the door opened.

"Oh."

The doctor looked up toward the woman, who looked just as surprised to see him as he did her.

"I didn't know someone else was here." She faltered.

John could no longer here the distant tapping of keys coming from the lounge.

He was made aware that her eyes were a bright greenish-blue.

"Who are you?" the woman demanded, placing her hands on her hips and raising her eyebrow. After being caught out, John realised she was taking on a defensive position. Perhaps she knew she probably was not supposed to be there.

"John Watson. I'm a friend of Sherlock's. In fact, I live with him." He thought it sounded as though he was confessing a crime.

"And what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work? Mycroft said Sherlock's flatmate worked."

"Uh, I just wanted to check to make sure Sherlock was alright, he's been like this since yesterday."

"He's fine."

"Okay."

John decided that the woman probably did not care if she was not supposed to be in the apartment.

"Madeleine!" she squealed, something catching her eye, and she ran – shuffled in her heels – into the lounge. John watched from the counter as the woman scooped a now standing Madeleine into a tight embrace.

Madeleine looked like she was about to become a murderer herself. The girl eyed John over the woman's shoulder, almost as if asking him _why_ he let the woman into their home.

"How have you been,_ darling?_ I heard that some of those girls from that nasty boarding school began killing each other. I'm_ so _glad to see that you're safe!" The woman hugged Madeleine again before stepped back.

"Fine."

"Aw, now don't you start becoming like your father. It would be terrible if that brilliant mind of yours was stopped from letting out brilliant things. Talk to me,_ darling_, tell me what has been happening!"

The woman patted Madeleine on the head, took her hand and dragged her to the couch. John took a few steps toward the archway to keep the pair in his view. He was not particularly sure if he should ask the woman to leave. After all, _he_ did not know who she was, and Madeleine certainly did not seem to _want_ her there.

After a few moments of silence, the woman huffed again.

"This whole family is so quiet these days. It's such a shame." Her eyes glanced around the room, and suddenly remembered that he was present.

"Oh! I didn't introduce myself to your friend, Madeleine, _darling._" She looked back to the girl sitting next to her, "shall we make him guess? I'm sure he's heard all about me from you." The woman turned back to John, eyeing him up and down.

"Uh, I'm sorry, but I'm not actually sure wh-"

"Irene Adler. Extremely pleased to meet you... what did you say your name was?"

"John Wa-"

"Extremely pleased to meet you, Jim." She smiled from the couch.

Almost as rapidly as she had turned her attention to him, she had turned it away, and was now engrossed in trying to probe Madeleine for information on Sherlock and her life.

John quietly returned to the kitchen, and put the kettle on to boil.

Perhaps he would go and drag Sherlock out from his room later.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed chapter number eleven.

My beta wanted to point out that Sherlock doesn't actually say anything in this chapter at all. I thought it would have been interesting to have Sherlock go into one of his 'I don't talk for days' episodes.

**I would like your help. I have a vague idea of what to do with Madeleine's mother, but I want input from you guys as well, because I am writing this story for you guys :D**

**Please review. I only got ONE review for the last chapter, and it made me really sad.  
SO IF YOU REVIEW! The next chapter comes faster :D  
**

Thank you muchly for reading!

FlyFly


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